The Children of Frost
by Catherine Spencer
Summary: "Will you let my soul be lost in this frozen vastness of nothingness? No forgiveness for me, no last goodbye? Nothing? You are the heartless one, you, who saved me and made me curse my own blood! You raised me up with your stories and your enemies became my enemies, your monsters became my monsters. Why didn't you tell me I was a monster for you?" Loki/OC. No Mary Sue.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**

I don't own Loki, Thor, Odin or any other Marvel character. I only own the original characters involved in the story, such as Alexandra (Alex) Moore and Richard (Dick) Norman.

**Prologue**

Motto:

"_Outcasts, callused from being in exile for too long, learn to thrive on being the hated; the attention and infamy of our actions fuel us to become antiheroes. Too often do we forget: we risk self-destruction if we fail to follow what we know is right; our talents too often become misplaced, misdirected, misguided from what could have been something wonderful._"

_Mike Norton, Fighting For Redemption: Hangambiiki_

I

It took the Aesirs a thousand years and a muzzle to understand what Loki always felt to be true. He is not their prince. He never was. He was no more than a stolen relic, a political weapon in the clever hands of the All Father. By bringing him back in chains, they made that very clear.

At least the streets are almost empty at this time of day and not many curious eyes are watching as Thor drags him along to the palace. The glances of the few passers-by pierce through him like darts. He ignores them and continues his humiliating march. Fists clenched, Thor walks next to him, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He sure doesn't look like he enjoys the kind of attention they're getting. It's hilarious, really. Thor has the hammer and could use it to fly them both to the palace, but he won't do it for fear of hurting him even further.

Oh, Thor! He has always been such a sentimental fool.

If the green monster didn't break him, with all his insane strength, the inconveniences of a short hammer-flight are not likely to do the trick. His broken ribs would probably scream in agony, but the pain is still a better alternative to public humiliation. If only he could tell that to Thor, but the damn muzzle presses hard against his lips, preventing him from voicing his thoughts.

On the stairs they meet Sif and, if she's surprised to see him in chains, her composure betrays nothing of the kind. She sets her fist on her chest in an Asgardian salute and bows before Thor, sparing only a quick glance at him. Her eyes are unreadable.

"My prince, your father is waiting for you in the throne hall," she says. "Your mother is there as well."

_Frigga!_ His stomach drops to his toes. What did he expect? That she won't be there, among his inquisitors? The last time they met, Thor told her how he sent the Destroyer to kill him and his friends. The look she gave him back then told him more than he wanted to know. He was never again to feel the complete and unconditional love of the woman who raised him.

The door of the throne hall opens in front of him, creaking melodramatically on its hinges. Loki stops and turns to Thor, trying to catch his eyes. His brother – no, not his brother. _Thor._ – ignores him. He takes a deep breath and walks inside.

Frigga stands on the stairs in front of the throne, but he doesn't look her way. Her eyes might just look back at him with the same disdain he sees in those of the Warriors Three. Other than the royal family, they are the only witnesses at his trial.

Freeing himself from Thor's hand, he covers alone the distance that separates him from the stairs. From the height of his throne, the All Father's good eye follows him as he walks across the hall. There is no mercy in his sight, and no sympathy.

"Brother, kneel in front of the All Father," Thor whispers in his ear. The plea in his voice is revolting. Loki doesn't even spare him a look. He doesn't deserve any. "Defying father will gain you nothing. Please, brother..."

An insanely strong hand pushes him down to his knees. Loki falls hard and hisses in pain. Damn Thor and his stubbornness! He clenches his fists and fights against the crushing weight that forces him to stay down.

The sound of familiar steps approaching him makes his heart skip a beat. Frigga! What is she doing? Doesn't she know what he did? Doesn't she know who he is?

"Thor, that's enough," she says. "Leave your brother alone."

He looks up at his mother and there is no hate in her eyes, no anger and no accusation. An immense wave of gratitude washes over him as she helps him up and pulls him into in a warm, silent embrace. Swallowing hard, he wraps his arms around her and presses his face into her hair.

"Loki, my precious child," she murmurs. "How cruel of you to let me think you were dead!" She pulls back only enough for their eyes to meet, wipes the hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. Her lips, warm and soft against his skin, remind him of all the times she offered him comfort after his quarrels with Thor.

"My Lady, I think that's enough," Odin says and he's just in time to spare him the humiliation of crying in front of them all. She doesn't move, so he pulls her away and silently calls his brother for help. Frigga's beautiful, deep eyes are clouded with grief as Thor escorts her back to her place on the stairs.

There are so many unspoken words between them, and they all taste like goodbye.

It tears him apart.

The All Father clears his throat. Focus, damn it!

"Loki, my son," Odin says, abruptly. "I am not sure you understand how serious the accusations against you are. I shall remove your mask now, but you shall only speak when I give you permission. Do you understand?"

The temptation to ignore him is strong, but its' nothing compared to the wish of getting rid of the damned muzzle. Aside from bruising his lips, it emits some sort of energy that prevents him from touching the source of the True Power. The absence of magic burns his insides, as the All Father probably knows. Without magic, he's nothing but a shadow of his own self.

Clenching his fists, Loki nods in acceptance.

With a flick of the All Father's hand the muzzle is gone and Loki sucks on his swollen bleeding lips as gently as he can, without soothing the sting. He risks a quick glance at Frigga, and for a split second their eyes lock in silent understanding. She is still troubled - her face betrays her - but at least she has stopped crying and looks pleased with Odin's decision.

She will surely hate every minute of what is going to follow. His eyes turn to Odin, who has stood up from his throne. The All Father starts climbing down the stairs with his sceptre in hand.

"My son-"

"I am _not_ your son!" Loki spits. "I never was."

The next second, the Warriors Three have their weapons in hands and Thor makes a step toward him. His eyes unwavering, the All Father continues to climb down the stairs. Would he even stand a chance in a fight against him?

"You are not my blood, Loki, but you are still my son. I will not allow you to cause your mother any more grief with your foolish words!"

"You leave mother out of this!" Marvelous. He's being manipulated and yet he's responding to it. "This was never about her. It was always about you being a thief and a liar and I will not-"

"Silence!"

And here it is. Odin's perfect answer to all accusations. He never listened to him, never had time to hear what his so-called son might have to say. Nothing has changed. Not really.

Right in front of him, the All Father talks about peace and crimes and duty. He'd better stay focused. If nothing else, such lectures have always amused him.

"You endangered a peaceful realm such as Midgard," Odin is just saying.

Really? Does he even hear himself? Who is the liar now?

"Oh, that's right. _Peaceful_. Humans are slaughtering each other for centuries now and you-"

"I did not allow you to speak, you foolish boy! They are by no means prepared for the kind of war you brought to their gates!" Odin cuts.

"They seemed pretty well prepared for me." His voice drips with sarcasm.

The look on Thor's face is just priceless. "Loki, please! Listen to father!" he shouts. There's so much pain, so much desperation in his voice.

Loki allows himself a half smile.

"I will do no such thing." His words seem to cause a stir among the Warriors Three. One step away from him, Thor looks like he has just swallowed a swarm of bees.

The All Father, however, doesn't beat an eyelash. As always, his utter indifference makes his insides boil.

"You have no right to judge the king of the Jotuns!" he snaps. The words leave a foul taste in his mouth, but that's the truth. With Laufey dead, he is the legitimate king of that dead, frozen realm. Loki Laufeyson, the king of the monsters.

It's true and it's sickening and it's too late to take his words back.

The pain in his ribs returns with a vengeance as he straightens his posture. He takes a few painful, slow breaths before he lifts his chin and looks the All Father dead in the eye. The silence is deafening.

"Kingdoms are ruled by men, son. I see only one man in this room, and that is not you," Odin says. "You are a cruel child, Loki, just like your brother was, and I carry the blame for spoiling you both. Despite what I taught you, you know nothing about ruling, let alone about the mercy and modesty a king must show to his people."

Oh, this is ridiculous! Loki opens his mouth to protest.

"That's _enough!_" Odin shouts. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, boy?"

"I am no boy, _father,_" he says, spitting the last word. It burns his tongue like poison. "And I am a king, just like you are. I have no reason to justify my actions to you."

"Loki Odinson, is this your final word?" Odin asks.

"It is. I will listen to you no longer," he replies, forcing his face into an expressionless mask.

No regret on the All Father's face? Nothing? A long sigh escapes his lips. Were things otherwise, he might have even fallen at his feet, begging for his forgiveness.

"I see," Odin says, flatly. He raises his sceptre and points it directly at his chest.

"Loki Odinson! For your crimes against the people of Midgard and your own family, I take from you your magic!"

Loki's heart skips a beat.

He is to be cut off from the source of the True Power? He will no longer be able to channel the energy flow of the Universe? There is no worse punishment for a sorcerer. In all history, no one survived it for more than a year or so.

"No! Father, please-" Thor shouts.

The blast of light hits his chest and fangs of fire gnaw his insides. Instinctively, his eyes snap back to his mother, but she's not in the room anymore. When did she leave? Oh, it doesn't matter. It's good. It's good that she left. This way, she won't have to see him like this. She won't have to see her younger child being punished to death.

Loki falls back to his knees. He closes his eyes shut and tries to touch the energy of the nearest object. He fails. It's like a wall has been placed between him and the source. The feeling of loss digs deep into his soul.

He looks up at the All Father, treacherous tears burning his eyes. "Why don't you just kill me?" he pleads. "Why wait?"

No answer. Odin raises his sceptre once more.

"Son, you are to return to Midgard and redeem yourself in the eyes of those whom you've wronged," he says. "This is the right thing to do, and so shall be done! In the name of my father, and his father before, I, Odin, the All Father, cast you out!"

The throne hall disappears into a burst of white light. When his vision returns, Loki is crossing the Universe at millions of light-years per second.

He's falling.

\\\~+~/

**Author's Notes:**

I.

My readers are probably starting to get used with me changing the story and re-writing scenes or entire chapters every 2 weeks. I sincerely apologize for abusing your patience like this.

During the last few weeks, I grew up a lot as a writer. When I started to write this story, my English vocabulary was very limited. As a result, I tried to express my ideas in clear and simple terms, failing to present the psychological conflicts of the characters and their internal struggles. I am yet far from perfection, but I honestly believe I improved a lot.

For those who prefer the first version of the prologue, it can still be found on my profile page.

II.

**Inspiration sources:**

I must admit from the start that, in writing this prologue, I used several sources of inspiration_,_ respectively:

1._ Robert Jordan – "Wheel of Time"_,for Loki's magic (as explained below);

2. _Epiphanyx7 – "Silvertongue"_, for Loki's relationship with his mother. Epiphanyx7 is one of the most talented fan fiction writers I've ever seen. I can only hope that one day I'll become half as good as she is.

3. _Thor, the movie,_ for some parts of Odin's speech. I didn't even realize I used this source before Cosmopop mentioned that I practically quoted from the movie. Of course that I changed that particular phrase, but the similarity is still there.

III.

**Loki's magic:**

About Loki's magic, here is my explanation:

Every object and creature in the universe emits a different energy pattern. Some of these energy signatures (respectively, the energies of the living creatures) are more consistent than the others, but, in the end, they are all connected in an enormous energy network. Together, they form the True Power – the primordial energy of the Universe.

The sorcerers can feel the energy signatures of all the creatures and objects in creation and can make contact with them. When they do that, they feel the primordial energy flowing through their beings like electricity, connecting them to the very heart of the Universe, making them part of it.

Basically, all that the sorcerer has to do in order to perform magic is to connect his own energy to the energy of another object and make it obey his orders.

Also, when the sorcerer connects himself to the energy of a living being, he can feel its feelings and experience its emotions. Attention, he cannot "read thoughts".

Now - and here is Robert Jordan's contribution to my concept – if the sorcerer is cut off from the source of the True Power, he continues to feel the energy of the objects / creatures around, but he can never make contact with them again. It's like placing a wall between his energy and the others. The sorcerer will constantly feel a burning need to touch and channel the energy, and such need ends up by killing the sorcerer, who loses his will to live.

I hope my explanation was not too confusing. If it was, please tell me so I can clarify my idea.

IV.

**Special Thanks:**

To **Cosmopop**, for all her feed-back and support. Without her help, this chapter would not flow as well as it does now.

To **The Disappeared** - if it wasn't for her review, I would have never realized what I have to improve and how to do that.

Also, many thanks to **Lauren Wright**,** KDHeart**, **Nyx **and** Amarantha**.

Least, but not last, thank you all for helping me with your wonderful reviews. You gave me the strength and confidence I needed to work harder and to improve my vocabulary, my style and my story.

V.

**Playlist:**

For the readers who don't know what this is all about, I decided to post for every chapter a small list of songs which kind of fit with the story line. As you can notice, most of the songs from the current playlist refer to Loki's relationship with his mother.

1. Bon Jovi – Thank You for Loving Me

2. Celine Dion - Goodbye's the Saddest Word

3. Enigma – Gravity of Love

4. Jennifer Rush – Unwanted Child

5. Edvin Marton – Godfather

6. Indica – Children of Frost


	2. License to Jail

"_Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough."_

_Jean-Paul Sartre_

I

**Chapter 1 – License to Jail**

He falls for what it seems like an eternity, his eyes unable to catch a glimpse of the celestial bodies that pass before them at insane speed. He is mortal now and only the magic of the All Father stands between his vulnerable body and the lethal chaos that surrounds him.

Between him and certain death.

And what if the magic will fade? What if the All Father will lose his focus before he reaches his destination? A cold shiver runs down his spine. He's going to die alone in the middle of nowhere. Maybe this is what the All Father was after. Maybe this is his true punishment. His weak, human heart starts beating so hard it hurts. There has to be a way out! He cannot die like this, not without struggle! Every fiber, every nerve of his body awakens and cries for salvation. He opens his mouth, but no scream passes over his lips. In the infinity of space, he can't scream, can't move and can't fight.

So, this is it. There is no way he can cheat death this time. He's going to die soon and no one will find his lifeless body. No one will mourn his loss.

'_And now... Now what? Will you let my soul be lost in this frozen vastness of nothingness? No forgiveness for me, no last goodbye? Nothing? You are the heartless one, you who saved me and made me curse my blood! You raised me up with your stories and your enemies became my enemies, your monsters became my monsters. Why didn't you tell me I was a monster for you? You caged my soul with your lies and now you cast me out and let me fall!'_

_'Oh, Father! You, who are the greatest lie of my life! Say you will pray for my hopeless soul; say you will mourn over my lifeless body!_'

The sound of his shallow breathing is the only noise that fills the deafening silence. Loki focuses on its steady rhythm, but his thoughts keep drifting back to the All Father. Too bad his curses won't make him stop admiring that man. He can deny him all he wants, curse him all he pleases. He still needs his approval. He's still the one he calls father.

They why didn't he understand him at all? Why didn't he see he would have made a better king than his brute of a son? Thor was reckless. Simple minded. He lacked the elegance and subtlety to be expected from the king of the Galaxy.

What difference does it make now? He's going to die anyway and nothing will change that. At least, the pain, the fear, they have all vanished. Why should he fear death in the first place? It feels like... peace. Like home. He closes his eyes and embraces death like a long lost friend.

The Earth comes to greet him at unreasonable speed.

An excruciating pain explodes through his body, blinding him for a moment. Hot acid spreads through his veins like a wildfire as he takes his first gulp of air. An agony cry escapes his lips. Never in his life had he felt such an intense, soul-consuming pain. Not when Thor beat him to a pulp, not when he got his lips sewn together for seducing a certain maiden and not even when the Hulk crushed his bones into the ground. For the Nine Realms, why didn't he just die at the impact? He could have at least passed away! Anything would have been better than being awake and suffer this agony.

A few hours later, he can finally move without going insane from the pain. He gets up – _carefully_ - and takes a look around. It seems like he has landed in a field of overgrown weeds, near a deserted road. No lady in sight? Of course not. He just couldn't have Thor's luck.

Biting back a pained scream, Loki takes a few hesitant steps toward the road. All right, that's it. He may stagger like a drunken man, but at least he can walk. If Odin has intended to kill him, he should have done it on the spot. By letting him live after humiliating him like that, the All Father has made the biggest mistake of his life.

But first things first. For now, he must recover his magic. If only he could do that before losing his mind and killing himself.

The old fool talked about redemption. All right. He could trick him into believing he has redeemed himself. It shouldn't be too difficult either, but a good plan needs time to unfold. He doesn't have time. He has to move fast.

He takes a few more steps and stops, catching his breath. It hurts so much! Fortunately, the mischievous part of his brain seems completely functional and up to no good.

First, he should find a way to contact the Chitauri and convince them to attack Midgard.

Two steps away from the road, he stops again and takes a very, _very_ slow breath.

The sign on the right side of the road says "Welcome to South Carolina". Underneath, someone added with huge, black letters: "Now, go home!"

Oh, the irony of it! If it wasn't for his broken ribs, Loki would laugh hysterically_._

Now, back to the Chitauri. He could promise to give them the Tesseract. Those stupid beasts have no way to find out whether he still has it or not. Then, he could join the Avengers, defend Midgard and prove to the All Father-

Loki takes a small step, stumbles and cringes in agony. "Damn!" He leans forward and supports himself against the sign. His ribs hurt like hell, but the pain kind of helps him clear his head.

The Gate Keeper. Even presuming he can make the Chitauri trust him, he cannot shroud from his eyes anymore. Heimdall would see every single thing, including his negotiations with Thanos.

Loki growls. He can't afford to overlook Heimdall.

The heat is rather intolerable. Being dressed in leather and metal doesn't help either and he can't even change his clothes with something more suitable.

By the time he finds the gas station, his mouth is so dry that his lips cracked in several places and he has blood all over his teeth. Maybe he should walk inside and ask for a glass of water. Or maybe he should steal the old, rusty car parked in front of the building. After all, his very survival may depend on how fast he gets to the place called hospital.

Inside the car, the air is still and hot and filled with the disgusting smell of cigars. Small sweat drops are sliding down his forehead and his clothes are so wet they stick to his skin. Loki leaves the door open and looks at the board. He should have definitely paid more attention to driving during his last visit on Midgard.

As far as he recalls, when Barton wanted to start a car, he used a small piece of metal called a "key." All right, so that should be right... here. Only it isn't.

Loki stares blankly at the wheel. It might be better to enter into the building, find the driver and convince him to take him to a hospital. And what if the driver refuses? He has nothing to offer and nothing to threaten him with. The thought depresses him mightily.

So, there are no better options than finding the key.

The small compartment between the seats is empty, and so are the ones located on the car's doors. Loki curses under his breath and throws a quick glance at the gas station. Maybe the driver wouldn't refuse him after all. An elegant red car pulls up near a gas pump. The driver - a fat, dull-looking human - uses the pump and goes inside the building, leaving the key in the ignition.

The new car shines tempting right next to him. It isn't much of a choice, really. He forces himself out of the old clunker and starts limping his way toward the red car. The chill inside is a welcome change from the heat of the day. He takes a careful breath and glances at the gas station's door. The human is nowhere in sight. Good. All he has to do now is start the car and get it on the road.

Easier said than done.

Loki turns the key slowly and – _oh, yes! _– the engine starts running. At the same time, the door of the gas station opens again and a huge belly appears in sight. Damn it. No time to figure out what to do next. The driver walks slowly toward the car, taking huge bites out of something that looks like an oversized sandwich. Loki feels sick.

Blood pumping in his ears, he presses and pushes randomly every button or pedal within his reach. The sandwich stops in mid-air.

"Hey, what do you think you're-"

With a loud noise, the car shoots forward and the driver finally drops the food and starts running toward him. Loki pushes the acceleration as far as it can go and jerks the wheel to the right, narrowly missing a gas pump.

"Stop right there! How dare you steal my fucking car? Do you have any idea who I am?"

The driver runs after the car, pumping his fists in the air and shouting at him. Leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind it, the car zooms away on the road. Sure, he must be nuts to speed like that on these roads, but it's not like he knows what to do to slow down.

The cold air blowing in his face makes him feeling a little bit better, but it doesn't seem to have a long-time effect. After two or three miles, his vision begins to blur and his breathing becomes gradually heavier. He might pass out any minute now, but giving up is not a solution. If he stops, he may even die before anyone finds him.

Die? Did he just say die? Oh, no, dying is out of the question. There are so many things left to do.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and fails to notice the little man, all dressed in blue and black, who waves his hands at him. It doesn't take long before a white, noisy car passes him, makes a U-turn and stops in the middle of the road.

What the hell! He barely has enough time to discover the brakes. With a loud screech, he stops a few inches away from the police car, his heart pounding hard in his ears. This was close! Swallowing hard, he stares at the little bald man coming his way. Right. He should get out of the car and see what he wants.

After the air-conditioned coolness of the car, the hot air hits him like a like a rock to the head. The world starts spinning and he has to lean on the car for support.

The little man stops in front of him. "May I see your driver's license?" he asks, measuring him from head to toe, like he would be some kind of an alien. Well, technically speaking he _is_ one, but he is quite positive he looks humanoid enough to pass for a Midgardian.

That is, of course, if Odin hadn't suddenly discovered his sense of humor and made him look like a bilge-snipe. This is ridiculous. He will absolutely not touch his head in search for horns, even if that would explain the pressure that threatens to crush his skull.

He smiles instead. "But _of course_ you can," he says softly. "However, I am not familiar with that term. Would you mind explaining to me what a driver's license might be?"

The Midgardian - a middle-aged man with _very_ thick eyebrows that seem to compensate for his baldness - sneers at him and starts writing something in his notebook.

"You think you're funny, huh?" he asks, flashing a glance at him.

What an impertinent _insect_. If only he could use his magic, the man would be instantly vaporized. He forces a smile.

"No, I do not think of myself as being particularly funny. You see, I am not from here-"

"Right. Listen, son. I might have been born at night, but it wasn't last night.* And you're not the first punk I've seen smoking shit, stealing cars and trying to fool the ol' man. But I ain't no fool, boy! And unless you can show me some identification, you're coming with me."

_Son?_ What's wrong with all these people, claiming to be his father? Does he look like he needs one?

"I will listen to this nonsense no longer," he says, clenching his fists. "And you are _not_ my father!"

The bald man blinks. "Watch your mouth, boy! If you were my son, you'd be a respectable lawyer by now, not a punk in a Halloween costume, driving like crazy on I-95!"

Loki shots him a chilling glance. "You know, you should consider yourself lucky for-"

"If I was lucky, I wouldn't have to work my ass off for eight dollars per hour, risking my fucking life to protect punks like you from being killed on the streets!" the man cuts him short, obviously losing his temper.

Loki narrows his eyes. "As a matter of fact-"

"As a matter of fact, get in the fucking car!"

Grabbing his shoulder, the small Midgardian pushes him forward. The fierce pain that shoots through his shoulder has nothing human in it. Crying out, Loki tumbles forward and his palms smack cement. He starts coughing blood.

"If you ever lay a finger on me again, I'll kill you," he says between greeted teeth. Damn, he can't even see straight. It takes all his strength to look up at the man.

The Midgardian stops in his tracks and finally seems to notice his condition. His reaction, however, is not the right one.

"Oh, so you like fighting as well! You make your parents really proud, now, don't'cha!"

Parents? Really, now? Without a word, Loki accepts the hand the man's offering and limps quietly towards the police car.

'_I failed to make you proud, Father, but the same goes for you now. My fall... is your fall.'_

\\\~+~/

**Author's Notes:**

I

**Re-writing**

I hope you, my readers, will not be too angry and will bear with me for a little longer.

After all, I decided to re-write the first nine chapters and edit the last four because I wanted to offer you the best that I can. And I might not be a professional writer, I might not be an English native, but now I can definitely write better than I did before. I can only hope that, after reading the reviewed chapters, you will agree with me.

For those who want to read the first version of the chapters, I will post them all on my profile page, at "_Path to Redemption_".

Now, I do not plan to change the plot of this story. Actually, the general plot, the characters, the pairings, will all be the same. I will only take my time to develop them better.

Don't worry, I shouldn't need more than two or three weeks to finish re-writing these chapters and continue the story.

II.

**About the title**.

You probably noticed I changed the title from "_Path to Redemption_" to "_The Children of Frost_". I think this one fits better with the story (after writing the skeleton of the entire plot, I can say this) and it doesn't sound so dramatic.

III.

**Inspiration sources:**

The line "_I might have been born at night, but it wasn't last night._" doesn't belong to me. It was said by Bobby Singer, one of the characters from the **Supernatural **series and I take no credit for it.

IV.

**Special thanks:**

To **Cosmopop **and** Lauren Wright**, who helped me with the editing of this chapter.

To **The Disappeared**, again, for her advice and criticism. And for sending me the link to Jim Butcher's blog. The guy _is_ a genius.

V.

**Playlist**

1. Edvin Marton – Paganini 5

2. Edenbridge – See You Fading Afar

3. Evanescence – Missing

4. Evanescence – Whisper

5. Kajiura Yuki – You Shall Overcome

6. RED - Watch You Crawl


	3. Fated Encounters

Motto:

"_I love the word "fate". Because, you know how they talk about "fated encounters"? A single encounter can completely change your life. Such special encounters are not just coincidences. They're definitely... fate."_

_Mawaru-Penguindrum, 2011_

I

**Chapter 2 – Fated Encounters**

"And you said your name was-"

The police officer sitting across the table puts his hands together and taps the tips of his fingers. Unlike the Midgardian who arrested him, this one is almost a child and everything about him betrays nervousness. Playing mind games with him is not even fun, or necessary. Loki yawns.

After two weeks in a Midgardian prison, Loki has reached the conclusion that he prefers being punished by Asgardian ways. If nothing else, the Aesirs showed more imagination when it came to their punishments. For someone with his intellect, being left alone to rot in a cell was just as much of a torture as having his lips sewn together… just not as creative.

On the other hand, coming up with a plan that could trick both Odin and Heimdall into believing in his redemption required all the creativity _Loki_ could muster. The result, however, proved worthy of his reputation. Still, there are a lot of problems he must consider if he wants to have a chance in hell to succeed. First and foremost, Loki needs to get out of this prison alive.

The brainless insects in front of him might give him the information he needs to do that.

Loki tilts his head, a thin smile curving his lips. "Is it a common practice to ask someone's name before introducing yourself? Where I come from, such demeanour would be considered an insult," he says. The other man hesitates for a second before clearing his throat.

"I am Police Officer John Sanders. I trust my colleague told you about your rights?"

"I find your sudden interest for my rights rather intriguing, especially after how I've been treated," Loki says. "Tell me, do you usually lock your wounded and sick in a cell instead of taking them to a hospital?"

Under Loki's steady gaze, Sanders moves in his chair, as if to make himself more comfortable. Amateur. "That's the protocol. Only if your life is in danger you can get treatment outside of this prison," he says.

Loki frowns slightly. "Oh, so I've heard. My ribs were broken and my lungs punctured in more than one place. I coughed blood for more than a week and I couldn't sleep because of the pain, yet I didn't qualify for a visit to one of your hospitals."

Sanders swallows and looks away. "I did not make the rules. Besides, out doctor-"

"Your doctor is an imbecile and a sadist," he says dryly, and he isn't far from the truth. The heavy-handed approach of that man was the main reason he coughed blood for so many days. Loki shivers. He has recurrent nightmares involving that man.

The young officer shrugs. "I will pass your complaint to my superiors. Now, if you don't mind, I still need your name and address."

"And what will you do with this information?" Loki asks him softly. Confusion spreads all over the man's face.

"I will write it down, of course." Sanders pauses. "I'm not sure you understand how serious the accusations against you are," he says, using the same words as Odin. Coming from his mouth, however, they sound more like a joke.

Smiling, Loki opens his arms in mocking invitation. "Please, do tell."

"You were initially arrested for driving without a license, but right now, you are also being investigated for theft. Last week, the owner of the car filed a complaint against you."

Loki refuses to look surprised. "I expected as much," he says and nods curtly. "But I am sure your judges will understand that I was compelled to steal that car. I was badly injured and I had to get to a hospital. What am I to fear?"

Maybe it's just an impression, but Sanders looks at him as if he had grown a second head. "Nothing, except for a few years in jail," he says, waving his hands. "And you cannot see a judge before we complete our investigation. I warn you, it can take at least three or four weeks, especially if you refuse to cooperate."

All of a sudden, Loki feels ill.

When he was arrested, the fear of being recognized and possibly molested by the Midgardian guards added to the general feeling of helplessness. Injured and without magic, Loki felt vulnerable and furious at the same time. Worse, he felt cornered. More than a few times, he tried to channel the energy and failed. Each attempt made him writhe in pure agony. The urge to connect himself to the power burned his soul like a wildfire.

After a while, when he got strong enough to take a few steps around the infirmary, Loki discovered a mirror. With it, he found the explanation for the staff's apparent amnesia. There was something profoundly disturbing about the pallor of his face and the haunted expression in his eyes - something that made him look not quite like himself. When it finally clicked, Loki laughed hysterically.

For the first time in his life, Loki looked like prey, and that was the best disguise the God of Mischief could have wished for. No doubt that the same people who would have never freed Loki could be convinced to forgive a pathetic, injured human who stole a car in order to transport himself to a hospital.

Apparently, he has overlooked the Midgardian bureaucracy.

Four weeks of investigations before he could even talk to a judge is a long time – longer than he can afford wasting. Every time he closes his eyes, he can already feel the madness tearing at the edges of his sanity. His time is limited. He needs to meet Tony Stark and Jane Foster.

There is only one thing he can do, but the thought of turning himself into the hands of his enemies having only his intellect as a weapon is sickening. Does that make him a coward? He lied thousands of times, deceived countless people, double-crossed his allies, but never hid his identity. He won't start doing it now.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sanders asks him again. "Are you going to give me your full name and address? Be sure that we have our means to find them, anyway. It will only take longer to complete our investigation."

It just has to be done. He has come too far for anything else. Without saying a word, he stands up and moves around the table, closing the distance that separates him from the young officer. Blue eyes widen as Loki bends over and presses his lips to the boy's ear. "Listen to me, and listen closely," he says, his voice close to a whisper. Sanders' shiver has nothing to do with the temperature.

"Right now, I shall tell you my name, and you will run out that door and repeat it to your superiors. Soon, a lot of guys in black suits will start showing up, asking questions and fighting each other to see what agency gets its hands on me first. And you, _John_, will get promoted for being the first officer who interrogated me and made me tell him my name. Do you understand me, _John?_"

The young officer swallows hard. Oh, he's so flustered! Loki just grins.

"I am Loki, of Asgard," he says.

\\\~+~/

As John Sanders convinced himself pretty soon, Loki didn't lie him about one thing. True, he didn't get a promotion, but the part about the black suits was very much as the Trickster predicted.

Even if shit was going down Russian-style, the place still shouldn't have looked like an alphabetic cluster fuck. CIA, FBI, KGB, NSA, NCIS, MI6… They were all there, looking at each other like cowboys and natives, ready to blow up the goddamn police station. To make things worse, simple details like jurisdiction didn't make them get their heads out of their asses and think like professionals.

Regarding the former Norse God, he seemed to enjoy the disaster he helped create and even flourished in the middle of it. Like a true master of chaos, he orchestrated the scandal, making the agents jump at each others' throats and then letting them fight while he waited for S.H.I.E.L.D. to send its representatives.

One week went by and they were still fighting over him. Aspects like jurisdiction, national security, competent body, and even Loki's status in the United States as a _banished_ alien were giving them nightmares. Not to mention the paperwork. They nearly passed out when an insignificant clerk mentioned that Loki had no ID card, no driver's license or social insurance and they had no idea what his full name was. Without his full name and address, they couldn't fill the custody forms and _that_ was a major problem for all of them.

"Mr. Loki, you surely understand we need your full name and address!" one of the agents insists. He is the tenth person who puts him the same question. Is it possible to die out of boredom? Maybe this is their plan.

He discards the thought as impossible and turns his attention – well, a small part of it – to the agent across the , emotionless eyes dart from him to a small notebook and then back to his face.

Loki yawns. "It must really hurt," he says, not bothering to fake a smile for the agent, "To get so close to me and be unable to take me in custody. To torture me, force me to tell you the secrets of the Universe...or whatever secrets you think I might know. _What_ a shame. I almost feel pity for you."

"You declared that your father's name was Laufey?" the agent continues, unwavering.

He doesn't even deserve an answer to this.

"Is it a Midgardian habit, I guess, to ask the same questions over and over again," Loki says. "You probably expect to receive different answers, in which case I must disappoint you. You see, I have an excellent memory."

The agent writes something in his notebook. "I'll take this as a 'yes'," he says.

To think they sent such a retard to interrogate him!

"I understood you're a former Norse... _God?_" the other continues. Funny question. "If it is all the same for you," he says with a soft smile, "you may still consider me one. Only my magic is gone."

As much as his serious mask allows it, the agent looks almost relieved, like he has just found a solution to all his problems. "Then I am correct to presume your patronymic should be formed by adding "son" to your father's name? As in 'Laufeyson'?"

Loki snarls. "Call me like that again and I kill you!"

"Oh, but you can't do that, now can you, Loki?" Smirking, the agent points to his handcuffs.

"Trust my word, Agent. You don't want me to put your primitive restraints to a test," he says.

All of a sudden, the Agent doesn't look so confident anymore. If nothing else, his smirk is gone and he clears his throat before he continues. "Is it true that, on previous occasions, you presented yourself as Loki of Asgard?"

His question is followed by deep, heavy silence.

"Would it then be acceptable for you to be called after your foster father, the king of-"

"Odin is _not_ my father!" he shouts, and every word kills him a little inside. "Why can't you just call me the Liesmith? Or Silvertongue, for that matter. Any of these two is just as good."

"I'm afraid we can't do that. There are rules regarding the patronymics that have to be followed."

Loki jumps from his chair and slams his fist on the table.

"I had enough. Sanders!"

The young officer hurries to enter the room. Loki shots a last glance at the agent and allows Sanders to escort him back to his cell. Another minute in the presence of that brainless insect and he would have ended up trying to kill it.

Sanders seems rather talkative today. It's either that or he has accepted that he's attracted to him and tries to make an impression. Loki dismisses him with a wave of his hand and lies down in his pathetic excuse of a bed.

For now, he needs some time alone with his demons. As a point in their favor, they are not stupid.

\\\~+~/

Another week went by and Loki was more than a little disappointed. After turning himself in, risking torture and worse to get one step closer to the Avengers, all he got in return was a parody of interrogation that seemed to go on forever. Who was his father, which was his first name, and where he lived were. For some unknown reason, these were their favorite questions. Loki had a hard time understanding their relevance. He was on the brink of losing his mind, fighting against the urge to channel the energy, and they were wasting the little time he had left with pointless inquiries.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, when he finally arrived, was yet another disappointment. Loki had expected them to send Natasha Romanova. If nothing else, she was a beautiful woman and _almost_ a worthy opponent. Richard _something_ was neither of them. It took Loki less than five minutes to poke fun at the agent, ridicule him and put an end to their meeting. It came as no surprise when the man couldn't win the fight for his custody.

Then, Nick Fury arrived in person to settle the things. When Sanders told him about the big, black man who managed to intimidate the local police _and_ the guys in black suits, Loki let out a long sigh. It looked like the waiting was finally coming to an end.

"You have a special visitor," Sanders says. A strange simile is curving his lips as he checks the handcuffs with much more attention than usually. He wears a new, shinny uniform and looks even younger than usually. "I wouldn't enjoy it too much if I were you," he continues.

"Oh, why, I love to receive guests," Loki retorts, throwing a quick glance at his cuffed hands. "Still, I might not be in the right condition to welcome them properly."

Sanders smiles again. It isn't exactly a happy smile. As a matter of fact, he looks rather gloomy. "If you say so," he says, flatly.

Loki raises his head and gives the man an inquiring look. The damn idiot just shrugs and walks out of the room.

Smiling softly, Loki leans back on his chair, allowing his stiff body to relax. His visitor cannot be other than the black Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Sanders was simply intimidated by him. Seriously, even a fly could make that man fluster.

He doesn't wait long before the door opens again, but his visitor isn't Nick Fury.

It isn't a man, either.

In fact, the woman who enters the room is one of the most attractive Midgardian females he has seen up to this day. She stops in the door frame and her deep, green eyes study him intensely. Her long, dark hair is done up in a bun, lose strands falling around her pale face.

She moves from the door-frame and walks towards the small table, her black, belted dress absorbing the light as she comes closer to him. Despite looking cold and professional, she possess a strange kind of sensuality that makes his toes curl. It sort of reminds him of the Black Widow.

Completely aware of his eyes on her, the woman pulls the chair on the other side of the table and sits down, crossing her long legs together.

Whoever she is, she sure knows how to make an impression.

\\\~+~/

**Author's Notes:**

I'm sorry it took me forever to finish this one. Hope you haven't forgotten me *nervous laugh*. Unfortunately, I had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't have the right mood to write anything. And the last scene... Damn, it took me forever to finish.

I expect my schedule to be more relaxed from now on, so I'll probably post the next chapter in a week, more or less.

II.

**Inspiration sources:**

I wouldn't call them inspiration sources this time, but I bet the influence of _Epiphanyx7_ is still strong. Also, I took some advices from _Jill Elizabeth Nelson_'s book "_Rivet Your Readers with Deep Point of View_".

III.

**Sanders' feelings**

In case someone will ask, yes, Sanders is sexually attracted to Loki. Now you'll probably want to know how Loki feels about it. Well, let's just say that Sanders is not exactly his type.

IV.

**Special Thanks:**

To **Cosmopop**, for helping me with this chapter despite breaking her arm again. I love you, girl, never doubt of my gratitude.

To **The Disappeared. **Your comments always force me improving! I started to study creative writing on a daily basis and I decided I want to write as professional writer. It will take me a lot of work and I know that, but at least I discovered what I want to do with my life.

About the descriptions, I never loved them too much. I do try to describe more, but they're really not my thing. However, I bought a few books on descriptions and I work on improving. I also try to work more on sequels, but I'm still limited by my English vocabulary. Maybe I should try to write first in Romanian, but I strongly dislike it. I don't hate my language; I just don't like how I write in it.

To my soul-sister **mithrah** for being there for me all these years. For being my best friend and, occasionally, a bitchy bitch (oh, you know what I'm talking about!). Officially, I poke you.

Also, many thanks to my beta, **Lauren Wright**.

V.

**Playlist:**

For the readers who don't know what this is all about, I decided to post for every chapter a small list of songs which kind of fit with the story line. Similar lists can be found after the first chapters.

1. Kevin Rudolf feat Lil' Wayne – Let It Rock

2. Oomph - Labyrinth

3. Kajiura Yuki – Strange Names

4. Muse - Time Is Running Out

5. Broken Iris - Sight for the Sore Eyes

6. Epica – Dance of Fate


	4. Guess Who's Coming for Dinner

**Chapter 3 - Guess Who's Coming for Dinner**

One of the best things about being Tony Stark is having Pepper Potts as a girlfriend and, from time to time, spending your evenings with her. Tonight happens to be one of those occasions and, considering the generous cleavage of her classy black dress, Tony counts it as a personal victory.

The dinner has been really enjoyable; the lobster delicious, the champagne excellent and Tony is pleasantly content. Only one thing could make his evening even better, and that is convincing Pepper to stay overnight.

His eyes flicker to her and back to his plate. She wouldn't turn him down, now would she? Tony doesn't remember having this kind of dilemma with other women, but Pepper being Pepper... it's kind of hard to be sure.

He clears his throat.

"Yes, Tony?" she says, raising an eyebrow. Taking the glass of champagne between her hands, she lifts it to her luscious, pouty lips and takes a small sip. Tony begins to feel distinctively turned on.

"How about you joining me for a... late night meeting?" he says as seriously as he can under the circumstances. "I have this... pressing matter my CEO needs to attend." Tony scratches his head as his eyes drop to the rather obvious proof of his arousal. "I think it might be a bit outside your regular job description." He shrugs.

Pepper takes another sip of champagne before shaking her head. "Mr. Stark, you should know by now that _nothing_ is outside the job description on your own _boss_," she says softly. The expression of her blue eyes is wicked. "As a matter of fact, I think I should call mom and tell her how busy we are," Pepper continues.

"Yeah. I mean... Yeah, you could do that." He nods, unable to take his eyes from her lips as she grabs her cell phone and starts dialing. His mind is already celebrating the victory when the phone stops in midair, deep blue eyes shining with mischief.

"This comes, however, with one condition," she says. Her voice, more than her words, triggers all the "anti-work" alarms in his brain.

He rolls his eyes in sheer annoyance. "Pepper, you're killing me. How many times did I tell you this? Enjoy the moment."

"And who says I won't enjoy it after I have your word." Her low, suggestive voice glides hotly over his every nerve.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Just keep in mind that you'll have to work hard to make me forget you ruined my moment."

Her mouth curves in a smile.

"You know I never back off from _hard_ work, Mr. Stark." Tony has to mentally slap himself out of the memory evoked by her words. He takes a gulp of champagne as a pretext to break eye contact with her. He needs a distraction if he doesn't want to jump on her like a horny dog. He'd most likely be punished for it later.

He sighs melodramatically and downs the rest of the champagne in one gulp. "All right, I know I'll live to regret this. Do your worst."

"Remember you asked me to make you an appointment with Robert Moore?"

Robert Moore? He actually tries to remember who the fuck the guy is, or at least why did he want to meet him. He can't focus. Not even a bit. Not with her cleavage in sight.

"The arc reactor?" she tries. "Robert Moore is the senator who introduced the bill about the alternative sources of energy."

Oh, _now_ he remembers. Among all the puppets and clowns populating the American pantheon, Moore made a name for himself as a strong supporter of the clean energy movement. Tony respected that. More than that, he needed the kind of political support the Senator could provide for his energy projects.

"What about him?"

Her eyes dart from him to her BlackBerry and back. "I've got you an appointment on Monday. That means..."

"For fuck's sake, Pepper!" Tony sighs, an almost pained sound. "It's Friday evening! Can you harangue me about this thing tomorrow, thank you?"

At first, Pepper doesn't even flinch. Then, a few creases appear on her forehead. Her blue eyes narrow slightly and her lips turn into a thin line. When she finally opens her mouth, he already knows is his CEO speaking and not his girlfriend.

"Tony, this is very important. I need you to come to Washington with me and help me solve a couple of things. The meeting comes first, of course, but there are also other aspects you need to take into consideration-"

"And I will." Pepper gives him a very suspicious glare and crosses her arms over her chest with a huff. "I give you _my word__, __scout's_ honor." He straightens his posture and strolls around the table.

"You've never been a scout, Tony!" she admonishes him, but from his voice he can tell she's not actually that mad. He rests his hands on her shoulders and his fingers start kneading along her firm, tense muscles. A low moan escapes her lips and she leans her head to the side to provide him better access.

"You seem like a hard woman to please, Miss Potts." Tony lowers his mouth to her exposed neck and trails hot, open kisses up its length, savoring the salty taste of her skin. He stops only a few inches away from her lips. "How about we put that to a test?"

Without a word, she stretches up and catches his mouth, long fingers curling in his hair and pulling him closer to her. He moans against her lips, moving his hands to cup her breasts and-

"Sir, Captain Steve Rogers wants to talk to you," Jarvis says in that proper English accent.

Tony's heart literally jumps out of his chest, makes a few tumbles and falls into his stomach. "Sweet mother of balls, Jarvis! You scared the shit out of me! Jesus!" he gasps between short, raspy breaths. Pepper makes a muffled sound, which looks very much like laughter, and grabs the cell phone to dial her mom.

"I had to do this anyway," she says apologetically. He looks at her phone for a moment, unable to decide what to do next, then takes a few steps toward the door. "Damn it, Jarvis! Just – just tell him I'm out!"

In his peripheral vision, he sees Pepper getting up and moving her sexy body toward the balcony, talking at her cell phone. Ever since they started dating, a few months ago, her mother became surprisingly suspicious of his intentions. Okay, so maybe his reputation might have something to do with the old lady not wanting him around her daughter in anything other than a professional position, but he'll find a way to charm her over. Eventually. Not that there would be a problem with his reputation.

This gives him another one of his brilliant ideas.

"Jarvis, better tell the good Cap. I left town for a couple of weeks. Took Pepper away to Paris where we're busy having lots of kinky sex."

This earns him a dirty look from the redhead. It looks like she's trying talk her mum out of hiring her a chaperone. "You're not helping!" she hisses at him, covering the speaker. All right, it's good to know he's not the only one who's pissed off.

"Sir, I'm afraid that is not possible," Jarvis intervenes. "Mr. Rogers is already in the elevator."

Tony snaps. "How the hell did he get in there in the first place? Jarvis, the security protocols in this house must be updated."

"Sir, you've updated them recently."

"And it seems I didn't do such a good job," he retorts and makes a mental note to remove any member of S.H.I.E.L.D. and any Avenger from the very short list of persons having access in his sanctuary. At least, he has to make them a visiting program or something.

Covering the phone's receiver, Pepper makes an impatient gesture for him to open the door, which he does, without trying to hide his annoyance. It is... 8:30 p.m., what the fuck could have happened? Not like he's dying to find out; he would rather enjoy his evening with Pepper than be debriefed.

"Mr. Stark," Steve salutes as he enters the room.

Wearing a T-shirt and what seems to be a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, 'grandpa' almost looks trendy. That is, if you don't count the haircut. For Tony, the very existence of a salon where they could make you look like your grandfather is a continuous surprise. He always had a sneaking suspicion Rogers was cutting his own hair. Or maybe Fury had a weird fetish for it and did it himself.

Tony's smile is anything but friendly. "Captain," he greets and reluctantly shakes the hand the good Captain offered to him. "If you came for that Shawarma, I've already had dinner."

"No, I..."

"Captain Rogers, welcome!" Pepper is finally done talking to her mom. She puts the cell phone on the table and walks over. "Nice to see you."

Rogers makes a step toward her. "Nice to see you too, Miss Potts," he says and kisses her hand reverently. Pepper smiles, obviously flattered by his old-fashioned charms. Really, now? Who the hell does _that_ in this century?

"I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner," Rogers says and actually sounds like he means it. Well, there's always a solution when you don't want to disturb. You just _don't_. "Fury sent me," he continues, like that would make all the difference in the world. "Your phone was out of range and he couldn't contact you for the whole week."

And if he couldn't, that should have told him something. Like the fact that Tony might not really want to talk to him. Or to Rogers. Or to anyone who didn't have blond hair, blue eyes and a sexy, firm ass. His eyes meet Rogers and he notices with no small amount of alarm the man actually fits the description. What the fuck was wrong with him to even remember what Steve Rogers' ass looked like?

His mind is still fighting against raising panic when he feels Pepper's eyes on him - the same disapproving, questioning glance she always has when she wants to scold him for not taking his responsibilities seriously. He shrugs, takes a deep breath and turns to Rogers, who stopped talking and scans suspiciously the various devices that fill the place.

"And he just couldn't live another day without hearing my sweet voice," Tony says, trying to keep panic out of his voice.

"Look, Stark, I'm not here because I want to or because-"

"Guys, please," Pepper intervenes, taking Tony's hand and pulling him closer to her. "Would you mind not acting like a jerk?" she whispers in his year, her sweet smile never leaving her lips. "I might change my mind about staying over tonight."

Tony gives her a worried look – she is serious, he can tell, although she looks as calm and innocent as usual. Sweet mother of Jesus, she can be actually scary sometimes. The thought of the kinky punishment she might have in mind for him helps him regain his composure.

Tony props his hands on his hips. "All right then, what happened? And, please, don't touch that!" he says, pointing to a strange looking device with a few buttons on it. "That is a beta prototype of a magnetic sensor device with a field generator and sensor element and it still needs some-"

"English, please?"

Cautiously, the Captain moves away from the little device without waiting for him to answer.

"It detects magnetic particles." Tony explains briefly. Hi-tech for complete dummies. "So, what happened?"

"Loki happened."

"You mean Loki – God of Mischief, son of Odin and brother of Thor, who recently led an army of monsters and tried to invade Earth? _That_ Loki?" Pepper jumps in, shrugging when both men turn to her. "I thought he went back home to face Asgardian justice."

"He probably had a good lawyer." Tony cannot help it. "What, they're everywhere, why not in Asgard?" he adds.

"Stark, this is serious. Loki's back and apparently, he lost all his powers."

That is news indeed. "So now he's what? Harry Potter without his wand?"

The mental image of a Loki without his magical power is so incredible, Tony has to drink something. He walks to the small bar and takes out a bottle of brandy.

"Want some?" he asks Rogers who, predictably, refuses.

"You lose." He pours a drink for himself and puts the bottle back in the bar. "I'm all ears."

"Well, looks like he was arrested a week ago near Columbia. Carlson, the agent sent there by S.H.I.E.L.D., couldn't take him into custody, so Fury decided to go there in person."

Tony takes a sip of his brandy and paces the room in total silence, trying to think. It just has to be more than the eye sees. Otherwise, Fury wouldn't bother to inform him that Loki has been arrested somewhere in the United States.

Rogers is here because Fury needs him. And Fury doesn't need him to take care of Loki, since he is already in charge of his godly ass. Rogers' silence can also be a hint, unless...

The sound of laughter reaches his ears. It looks like Pepper and the good Captain were having a great time together. _What_ a prick. Taking another sip of brandy, he walks straight to them.

"So let me see if I got this right," he says, frowning. "Somehow, Loki has escaped Asgard and he's back on Earth. He got busted by the cops in Columbia and claims he doesn't have any magical powers. Fury went there to escort him to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. I fail to see how Tony Stark fits in this picture."

"There's one more thing," Rogers says.

Of course it is.

"I knew it." He turns to Pepper. "I knew it. They never give you information just for the sake of it."

Rogers takes a paper out of his pocket and hands it to him. It is covered with numbers – coordinates, his brain supplies. Space coordinates.

"What is it? What is out there to make Fury ask me to check?" he asks. The Captain doesn't even try to hide his unease – it's written all over his face.

"He said something about a hundred of unidentified objects heading towards Earth with an impossible speed. He needs you to use your telescope to take a look at them."

Pepper gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. "If that's true..."

"The telescope is on top of the building," Tony says, shoving the paper in his back pocket. "Let's take the elevator."

\\\~+~/

A few minutes later, the three of them are on top of Stark Tower and Tony re-calibrates his telescope to fit the coordinates Rogers gave him. Once he finishes, he watches through the eyepiece, frowns and verifies all the coordinates again then watches for the second time. It is worse than Fury's darkest nightmares. "Sweet mother of-"

"What is it, Tony?" Pepper asks, a worried appearing between her brows.

"-fuck!"

Tony looks at them in disbelief, the piece of paper still hanging in his hand. "If these readings are correct - and I'm sure they are," he says, taking a deep breath, "then we have a Chitauri armada heading straight to us. I can tell that because this UFO looks just like the mother-bee I nuked when I entered the other side."

\\\~+~/

**Author's Notes:**

This time, I was faster. Really. It took me only three weeks to edit this chapter. I only hope it sounds a bit better that the first version.

I will have to re-write the next chapter entirely, so it might take a while to post it.

II.

**Special Thanks:**

To **Cosmopop**, as usual. I have no idea what would I do without your generous help.

To **Ordis** - I can't believe you left me a review! I was just reading your great stories (I will leave a review soon, I promise) when I saw the review. Wow. Thanks! For your sake, I will try to bring Sanders back in future chapters.

III.

**Playlist:**

1. Kelly Clarkson – Miss Independent

2. Westlife – When You're Looking Like That

3. Adam Lambert – For Your Entertainment

4. Kelly Clarkson – Beautiful Disaster

5. Fellowship of the Ring Soundtrack – A Storm Is Coming

6. Fellowship of the Ring Soundtrack – A Knife in the Dark

IV.

_**Please, please don't forget to review! The reviews help me more than you could imagine.**_


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